The First Time
by Robert Cora Fan
Summary: There's the first time...and then the first time it matters. Bedtime reminiscences.


A/N: I'm now in awe of anyone writing good M-rated fic. It's soo hard to say what's happening without being too graphic or repetitive. Anyway, this is meant as a fun one-shot. I hope you enjoy it...

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><p><em>She curls up to him, resting against his chest in the happy glow of post-coital bliss. "Do you remember the first time we did this?"<em>

_"I think I've blocked out that particular memory," he mutters._

_"It wasn't __that__ bad, darling."_

_"Maybe not, but it wasn't that memorable either."_

_She leans over him, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. "I remember when we got back to Downton." He rolls his eyes, knowing exactly what's coming. Her voice is incredulous. "Really Robert! Only an Englishman could come up with a __schedule__. What was it - three times a week?"_

_"I didn't want to bother you," he smiles ruefully._

_"I only wished you would."_

_"Yes, well...I rather hope I've made up for it since then." He briskly changes the subject: "Do __you__ remember the first time..." He looks at her meaningfully, waiting for her to grasp his implication. "...the first time you..."_

_Her smile broadens. "You mean the first time you spent the night?"_

_"Spent the night? I don't remember being given a choice - I had been stripped of my dressing gown and man-handled back to bed."_

_It is her turn to smile ruefully. "I was fed up of you running away after every-" she pauses in a search for the right word, lovemaking doesn't seem quite appropriate "-encounter."_

_"So you dragged me back to bed."_

_"It worked, didn't it?"_

_"Rather too well," he smirks._

_"Mmm...We didn't get up till lunchtime. It certainly gave your mother something to talk about." They both laugh at the memory. She looks up at him. "Could you imagine the girls' faces if we-"_

_"Stop it, Cora. I haven't got the energy anymore." He presses a kiss to her forehead. "Go to sleep."_

_He holds her in his arms as she dozes, remembering that moment of epiphany when he realised what it was all about and just why it mattered so much._

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><p>She had quite literally wrapped herself around him - no doubt to prevent any possible chance of him escaping back to his own room. Her arm snaked round his waist to keep him close, leaving his own hand resting uncomfortably on her side, thumb tantalisingly close to her breast.<p>

Was she really so naive to believe they could sleep entangled together like this? Sleep was the last thing on his mind. All he could think about was the feel of her body against his - soft and tempting and _within reach_. His hands ached to slide down and over her body.

He closed his eyes, trying to put those thoughts out of his mind, telling himself how unfair it was to impose on her for a second time. Yet with every breath his nostrils were filled with the feminine, floral scent of her perfume. When they were engaged it had been a tantalising promise of the intimacy to come. Now it was tortue.

She had consistently pleaded for him to spend the night, he had consistently refused. His excuses had always rung hollow - _it wasn't done, it wasn't English, his parents would be mortified_. In reality, his parents' reaction was likely to be only mild amusement (although his mother would no doubt come up with a suitably pithy remark).

The _real _reason he refused to stay was his own infatuation with his wife and the fact that he simply couldn't control his body's reaction to her-

He tried discreetly disentangling himself...if he can only calm down in the blessed sanctuary of his own dressing room-

She stirred in contentment and shifted closer to him. "Cora," he groaned. "I can't sleep like this."

She languidly leaned up to stroke his cheek. He closed his eyes - the look of concern in her face only added to his shame and guilt. "What's wrong, darling?"

He swallowed hard, finally managing one word: "You."His eyes were kept firmly shut; he didn't dare see her reaction.

There was no reply; instead her fingers softly traced the outline of his mouth. She kissed him once, then again, each time becoming braver and more insistent. When her tongue danced demandingly over his lips, he finally lost his last vestige of self-control. He instictively pushed her back to the bed and kissed her with desperate hunger and need. His hand roamed uninhibited, exploring all the places he had dreamed and fantasised about touching.

Gradually, the kisses slowed and softened. He propped himself up on his elbows, affording him a delightful view of her breasts under her nightgown, the nipples taut and clearly visible from his efforts.

"Are you sure...I mean, do you want to...?" He doubted he could stop now but felt the question still needed to be asked.

She smiled in bemusement. "It's a bit late for that now, darling."

He sheepishly freed himself from the restraining fabric of his pyjamas. As he pushed into her, he heard a loud gasp.

"Are you alright?"

She gave a slight, unconvincing nod, wrapping her arms tightly round his shoulders. His reassuring kiss on her neck prompted a further gasp. Somewhere through the fog of lust and desire, he remembered that _she _had been kissing him, _she _had been writhing under his caresses. He smiled into her neck - s_he _was enjoying this as much as he was.

Or she soon would be.

He took a deep breath in an effort to slow down and quell his own ardent desires, then turned his attention to her neck, licking, sucking, nibbling, teasing...She was squirming delightfully against him and making small, whimpering noises in his ear.

He returned to her lips, kissing her with barely contained passion. As her fingernails dug into his back, the unexpected pain and pleasure nearly caused him to lose his self-control. Her eyes widened in horror as he reached round to entwine her fingers in his and pin her securely to the bed.

Her hands pushed back against his as he moved faster and deeper within her, watching her rapidly lose control; she finally tensed and arched towards him, crying out his name in surprise. He smiled in triumph and relief, at last releasing the pent-up pressure in his own body. She squeezed his hands tightly as he collapsed on top of her.

It took the last of his energy to roll over and fall back onto the bed. She turned round to lean against his shoulder. His eyes flicked open, curious to see the effect of their exertions. Her face and neck were flushed; she was breathing heavily against him, and...when he moved his fingers down her neck he could feel the heat and the erratic thump of her pulse.

He was glad she couldn't see his smug expression. _This_ was just the beginning. There was so more much to do, to explore, to _enjoy. _Surely he wouldn't be missed at breakfast tomorrow...


End file.
